


Needful Things

by ApricotLane



Category: Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Character Death, Dark, M/M, Not Beta Read, Sticky Sexual Interfacing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-20
Updated: 2019-04-20
Packaged: 2020-01-20 16:00:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,065
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18528373
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ApricotLane/pseuds/ApricotLane
Summary: Everyone needs someone when their world comes crashing down, even supposedly emotionless tacticians, even well trained subterfuge operatives.





	Needful Things

Even though they had all seen the death of their cause simultaneously, the full reality of what that meant held a very individual timing. Prowl was the first to truly grasp the situation, door wings sinking in a way he could not hope, nor care to hide. It only took a glance, from him to Jazz for them to both understand.

Optimus was gone, the matrix was gone, so many of their friends and allies were gone. It was the realization could easily fit the number remaining in one room that had finally revealed the truth to Jazz, he read the same grim realization on Prowl. Everything was over. They were the last two remaining who could even call themselves command. Jazz had being trying to talk to a few of the decimated remains of the Autobot army. Prowl's glance was all it took to beckon him over. Picking his way from where the bulk of the Autobots had huddled together, the small abandoned factory they had fled to made for poor protection, but that was the least of their concerns.

“Prowl.” Was the first and possibly only thing Jazz could say. He was just as close to breaking as any of the other Autobots, held together by sheer force of will. 

“I know.” The tactician responded, a hushed whisper as the troops watched on. “What have you been telling them?” 

“Just to rest. We make our next move tomorrow. Figured you'd want time.”

Prowl gave a wing twitch of acknowledgement. “Tomorrow we surrender.”

“Prowl.” Jazz gave a soft protest.

“It’s the best odds we have.”

“Prowl.”

“The only way some of us may survive.”

“Prowl.”

“You know I've calculated every option.”

“I don't care.”

“Jazz?” Prowl questioned, barely getting time to even say the other's name before Jazz had grabbed his arm, pulling him off from the main room to an empty hallway, Jazz's back hitting one of the walls as soon as they were out of sight, Prowl pulled close against his frame. 

“I don't care about tomorrow. Not yet. I only want now.” The true desperation and fear Jazz had been feeling crept into his voice, his servos exploring the Praxian’s frame, tracing familiar seams, stroking wires, playing along the most sensitive parts of his wings.

“Jazz.” Prowl repeated, this time a lusty whisper. He could never deny the visored mech, not when it mattered. Jazz continued on, pulling Prowl close enough to carefully nip on his neck cabling as his servos went lower, exploring down to his interface panel. 

Prowl lost himself to the sensation if Jazz's touches, his bites, his needy desperate field, he tried to return every sensation, tracing down the Ops mech's waistline, taking advantage of sensitive hip seams, exploring, mapping every trace of Jazz. 

Jazz's ghost-light touches were enough to prompt Prowl's interface panel open, longing for more. Jazz's own panel opened in response, his servos quick to stimulate Prowls spike out of its housing. Somewhere along the line Jazz had picked up a soft whispered mantra of “please” begging Prowl to take him. The Praxian answered those pleas by grabbing into Jazz's wrists, pinning then above his helm as he lined his spike up with the Polyhexian's exposed valve. A dance they had done many times before. Their gazes locked, and Prowl slowly pushed in, Jazz giving one last gasped “please” before dropping off into a moan. They stayed like that for just a moment longer before Prowl moved, thrusting into Jazz in a slow pace. Everything else fell to the wayside for a few blissful moments, Jazz giving in to chasing his overload on Prowl's spike, matching him thrust for thrust as he coaxed the Praxian to pick up his pace until Prowl was pushing into him hard enough to nearly make him see stars. Even then the visored mech begged for more, and Prowl gave it to him, Jazz wrapping his legs around Prowl's wasit, Prowl's servos trailing down to grasp at his hips again, finding the perfect leverage to thrust deeper into Jazz's valve. It wasn't long before the Polyhexian was giving the telltale twitches of being close to overload, and only a few more deep thrusts had him crying out Prowl's name, frame spasming as his processor whited out. He was barely aware of Prowl's own overload, but the feeling of Prowl's fluids inside him, and the content lax tilt of his wings told Jazz everything he needed to know.

Neither if them moved for a few minutes before Prowl broke the silence with a “can I?”, causing Jazz to look at him questioning, giving the tactician the perfect opportunity to reach for the other's visor. 

“Please?” Was all he had to ask for Jazz to allow him to take it. It was quickly subspaced before Prowl stroked down Jazz's faceplate, a soft caring touch, that was all it took for Jazz to come undone, crashing against Prowl in a sudden surge of emotion. 

“I'm scared.” Jazz admitted, “I don't know what to do. I don't know how this happened. I don't know how… I don't know how to be scared, but I am.” sometime during his talking Prowl had guided them to the ground, Jazz in his lap, a servo petting his sensor horn. 

“You could run.” They sounded like such simple words, but Jazz couldn't believe Prowl had even spoke them. It was treason. Even where they were, optionless and about to surrender. “You're probably the only one who could survive.” The Praxian continued. “At least then we would have someone-”

“No.” Jazz finally interjected. “I won't abandon everyone.”

“I didn't say abandon-” Prowl tried to explain.

“No.” 

With that they fell back into silence, Jazz still laying against Prowl's chassis, Prowl still petting his sensor horns. Too much time passed before they finally untangled from one another. Too much time wasted away from their troops. Too much time stolen to be selfish. Thre wasn't much they could do to buff out the paint transfers, but they still tried to clean themselves up as best as they could before returning to the main room of the factory, Jazz slipping neatly back into place among the rest of the Autobots as Prowl returned to where he had taken post near the main entrance. Tomorrow would come all too soon, and the Autobots needed to be ready for the future that awaited.

**Author's Note:**

> Long time fan, first time fic writer. Trying to get into the scene and just blow off some steam with writing. Not sure if I plan to continue this world, but I do plan on continuing to write! Till next time!


End file.
